My best friend is a ghost By Mollie Burch
by mollyheartsavenged
Summary: An amazing story written by the amazing Mollie Burch.   not me btw


My Best Friend is a Ghost by Mollie Burch, Dedicated to Mollah (: 

"I kind of remember that night well, I was drunk and completely drugged up on various drugs, I was going to die what ever happened. My foster parents, Steve and Sue, were druggies and alcoholics, she was a prostitute. When I was fostered, the social worker didn't notice the smell of alcohol like I did, they reckoned it would have been a great opportunity for me, they were wrong, obviously.

I was five when they started me on cannabis, they would make me smoke it, put it in my mouth and they wouldn't let me take it out until they were satisfied that I was totally off my head. Although this wasn't the scariest thing, yes they would hold me to the floor until I basically passed out, but they did a lot worse.

They would beat me, because they would always get angry when they were stoned or drunk or both. If I moved one of my toes, one of them would hold me down on the floor and the other would grab a stick or something, (there was normally something lying around) and hit me with it, not just once, but over and over and over again, until there was blood. Every night I wouldn't sleep, I would keep my eyes open in case they came to beat me in the night. They didn't sleep much themselves though, they were either too stoned or too drunk, they would pass out in the end.

They seemed to be immune from hangovers because, every night they would get stoned or drunk or both and make me have some cannabis or any other drug they could get their hands on. They didn't start me on alcohol until I was ten.

I admit Sue was a looker, she could get any guy she wanted. Whenever they were low on money, Steve would drive Sue down to the red light district and drop her off and wait for her, apparently she was good in bed, that's why they had enough money to buy lots of drugs and a lot of cans of cheap beer and vodka.

The cannabis turned into heroine, a harder drug, I would literally pass out with one puff. This was when I was 7.

It was my tenth birthday that they gave me my first can of beer. I remember that I didn't like it but I thought I had better drink it otherwise they would beat me or make me drink it. I gulped it down like there was no tomorrow, I still got a beating. Sue shouted at me and told me I shouldn't drink it like that, grabbed the glass they gave to me and smashed it against my shoulder, blood poured through the sleeve of the dress they had bought me from the charity shop from down the road. I had to go to hospital, they made up some story that I had walked into the cabinet and the glass had fallen on top of me. The doctors gave them a funny look and carried on as if they didn't care.

I knew they didn't care, nobody did. Many times I phoned the care home for them to come and pick me up, telling them I didn't like it with Sue and Steve, telling them what Sue and Steve did to me, telling them how much it hurt.

Nearly a year past before it had all changed. The same happened up until then, I got beaten, they made me drunk or drugged me up so I felt as if I was as high as the clouds. I was only 11, I didn't know what to do, how to make it stop, I was stuck in a world that was shrinking destructively.

My twelfth birthday they didn't buy me clothes or anything normal, they bought me two bottles of cheap vodka, the ones that have high amounts of alcohol, "the best" apparently and a few packets of a drug, I didn't even know what it was. But they made me take it, they said if I didn't take it with the vodka then they would beat me up till I died, didn't matter what I did, I was going to die anyway. Drugs and drink don't go well together, especially hard drugs and highly alcoholic drinks. I was scared for my life, for what could happen to me, in the end they told me just to take the drugs, I did it, whilst crying getting high and more off my head, they had had too much and had been knocked out, I was walking round the house singing to myself, clumsily they had left in front door open. Me, being a curious child, walked outside, not knowing where to do, it was too dark and I was too drugged up to care really. I kept walking straight, I didn't see the tree 'till it was in my face. I'd walked into a tree, in the middle of a forest where nobody dared to go. Somehow, I could see myself lying there, I was up in the tree, but my body was on the floor, I watched the world go by for ages, I lost count after a few days.

Nobody came along, nobody went past to find me. I watched my body get eaten by various animals and bugs, until all that was left was my bones. I thought about going to Steve and Sue, seeing if they had noticed I was gone. I bet they hadn't, I bet they didn't care, they wouldn't notice if I had packed my bags and left. I wanted to, but I couldn't move from watching over my body, something was stopping me.

A few days later a dog went past, and noticed my body of bones, he barked a few times and his owner was shouting for him, but he stayed where he was, he kept barking until his owner came to find him. It was an old lady that lived down the road from me, I felt a tear well in my eyes and a drop fell down. I tried calling to her, but she couldn't hear me, I opened my mouth but nothing came out. She phoned the police straight away, they came for my body, I travelled on top of the car, I had to stay with my body until it was under ground. I don't think anybody could see me. Nobody looked at me or saw my tears fall. I don't know where we went after that, but my body was soon in a coffin and waiting to go under ground.

My funeral, I sat at the front, right next to my coffin, waiting for Steve and Sue to turn up, they never showed. They must have found out who I was, otherwise all those people I knew, would never have showed up. The old woman that found me, my social worker, other people from the care home and some kids I had made friends with. I remember talking to them about how I always wanted to go to my own funeral, maybe the gods or whatever heard me and let me have my own way, after my stressful life.

I was twelve, I had lived exactly twelve years, born and died on the thirtieth of August. My mum never wanted me, my dad had cleared off as soon as he found out my mum was pregnant, they were both only kids, sixteen years old, drunk, forgetting about protection. Or so my social worker told me once. I never forgot that, right 'till this day, I have never forgotten how my own mother had left me on my care home step, rung the bell and ran for it. She didn't want me, nobody wanted me, not even Sue or Steve wanted me.

They buried my body and I was free to go wherever I wanted, so I went back to Sue and Steve's house, but they weren't there. They must have moved away. I stayed in that house until, a new family came in, your family." The ghost's story was extreme, she had stayed in my room for years and I had only just found out about her.

"So you've stayed here for how long?" I asked her

"I've stayed here for as long as you have been alive, I've waited this long to come out and tell you my story." She answered.

She stays in my room, and often comes out to help me with my outfits when I'm going out somewhere. It seems like I'm the only person who can see her, my mum and dad don't seem to notice her in my bedroom.

She's my best friend, that no body else knows about.


End file.
